Back at the ranch, Michael had sat and put his head in his hands. What was
wrong with her? Didn't she know she had talent? Being undercover as a
manager for the CIA, it was imperative that he would get someone on the
map. Sydney would be famous. She was just nervous. He could fix that.
Michael pulled out a cell phone, ordered the single to be released. A music video could be easy; all he had to do was take the footage of the surveillance cameras from the studio when she was singing.
That done, he sat and tried to justify his decisions. Sydney would thank him. She would.
***
Sydney had calmed herself down by the time Michael came back. She was doing a session of yoga when he knocked on her door, her luggage in hand.
"Hey, Michael. How was the rest of your vacation?" She opened the door wider; took her suitcases from him. He breezed right past her, went to the television and turned it on.
"Come see this. It's amazing." She joined him. He glanced at his watch as a music video ended on the screen.
Then, to her complete shock, her face filled the screen. Sydney's song began to play, her voice rising to the melody. The shot changed to one of her sitting at the piano, then to just her hands, flying along the keyboard.
Sydney dropped to the floor, covering her face with her hands, her eyes filling.
Then she jumped up again, anger replaced the feeling of shock.
"You jerk ! Do you have any brains at all? Do you have any idea how much you just ruined my life? I'm as good as dead, you might as well have put the bullet in my head. Monster !" She screamed at him. After a few seconds of silence, she hit him, fist closed, right in the face. Then she ran to grab her money and ran out the door. A loud bang followed her.
Michael followed her. She was standing stock still on the porch, blood gushing out of her leg and a gun pointed at her face.
Michael pulled out a cell phone, ordered the single to be released. A music video could be easy; all he had to do was take the footage of the surveillance cameras from the studio when she was singing.
That done, he sat and tried to justify his decisions. Sydney would thank him. She would.
***
Sydney had calmed herself down by the time Michael came back. She was doing a session of yoga when he knocked on her door, her luggage in hand.
"Hey, Michael. How was the rest of your vacation?" She opened the door wider; took her suitcases from him. He breezed right past her, went to the television and turned it on.
"Come see this. It's amazing." She joined him. He glanced at his watch as a music video ended on the screen.
Then, to her complete shock, her face filled the screen. Sydney's song began to play, her voice rising to the melody. The shot changed to one of her sitting at the piano, then to just her hands, flying along the keyboard.
Sydney dropped to the floor, covering her face with her hands, her eyes filling.
Then she jumped up again, anger replaced the feeling of shock.
"You jerk ! Do you have any brains at all? Do you have any idea how much you just ruined my life? I'm as good as dead, you might as well have put the bullet in my head. Monster !" She screamed at him. After a few seconds of silence, she hit him, fist closed, right in the face. Then she ran to grab her money and ran out the door. A loud bang followed her.
Michael followed her. She was standing stock still on the porch, blood gushing out of her leg and a gun pointed at her face.